a spektor awaits

there is blood running down my finger and I am cold for the nest 27 hours.  The tiny typing thief can't figure how to put those guttural noises into his pockets so he hides behind the music.  (and so we go)
would you call that cannibalism?  'would you call' is a better question?
or is that a bitter question? truly this movie inspires my broken heart to rise to my sleeve.  CRANK you ducts! I'll find this open avenue if I just sit still.  I'm lost and young to spite my age so I wait and wait for a rumored gate...

packing is not so impactful but this down time is other worldly.  I can just hear Glen Woldrun "let us in, let us IN" as it is time to leave my finger still bleeding I cram my sleeve into another and bury what the rain reveals.

pause pause ....picks his nose

As the sun descends I think about the loss of room number nine and how it all added up to gain.  and how twice nine really has been life for many.  At the edge of another loss that feels like many I can only hope the gain is as geometric.  A first phone call miss placed and a missed phone call finds last place I need space to take a tick.  as aaron thinks it can stop and want me to try some how,  I stand to steal.  beying pushed around by less than time and mostly a negative neophyte.  I strive to crack these shells I see all around. stomping at the beach but the sand eats at my boots to be bear foot.  I ramble till and wait for the copper covered hate crimes.  where is their rhythm?!

sir sad face

I sat in your seat
and I see you begging to break.
but you walk backwards...
you don't see...
Take Caution Sir! your path is perilous and with you bring us as must be when its family.
I know how small the pieces can get and you don't want this

hued sky

running from rain drops I huddle from the hued sky.
chance untested but fleeced out
and about that time as madness sets in for the win,
I whimp and see the best ease past me.
feeble gesture at
"אז מה"
sits well with me, for now.  but those 89 little grains slipping by ever faster
fever ever faster
Fastest Ever Fever! Unsettled in my balance, and piece without these walls.
I unbind my sphere of movement and take this Thursday off. Lists of tasks take greater weight.
the list, a task with weighter great, Awake at eight
which is fine as a youth
but then nine is the truth
I'll rest my minim rest...

sanity help

Shalom front runner,

You shan't likely read this, yet at some time you may? just match up names and dates and times...
Sorry for the outside reference but the "eyes the size of snow" has no fit here. so I ask for help in one way but the response is all the help I need. content only giving me some leads, but just please respond. My great problem is so much in my head and I have no funnel to filter it out, a release valve. I see you in many places. I think of you at my best times and in the best ways. With out making mountains, you are a key. for me, in some way. I'd like to say great and lofty things but, foundations bust on bounding unchecked. Unwrecked is the goal to which I aspire for both spire as separate end points can be rightful. oh you snail, your stamps so slimy. the cost is great yet unrelated to the fee. Oh so careful pay out in the end, and greatly so, but the hear and know has gawtten fullled with statick. wolves and little Lillian Hellman make for unfortunate abstacles. to a descent as I go forward in waiting
your reply from the front lines...

testing

I don't understand why you trust me
with your heart
and I don't understand why you trust me with my future
and I don't
and I understand
and I don't understand you
and I don't trust me with my future

strive and strife
Shall I name them?
am i looking at onion peels?

I can see what was left of one decomposing
I should tell you about her
pin strait and fine of vision
I blur the line for the high hope we have for him
despite the hopes the boyful boy has dashed on my front steps
every
single
daylightrunsinthefamily. did you know that?
Did I trust you with that?
and this is when you ask where my void is
and I tell you it is beying filled and you tell me you have that shipment of music to fill it and I weep for shame of the con-gress I pursue.
Why won't you tell me of that shipment? i ask the air
I dismiss the answer it gives as misleading. lazy lying humid air.
shall I beat or bite?
I'll stir the flames, dig deeper this void.
I'm not throwing you, but placing you.
and I hope it throws me
into place...

the tome

Dear Sean "Mr." McDaniels,


Thank you for writing to me about your situation. As you well know I care a great deal for you and your work. Your position is very important, and unfortunately often under appreciated. It is also good to be in touch old friends. Your smile has lit my own torch many a time and I hope I can help rekindle your smile in this difficult time.

In regards to the letter you received from Theo, I am praying for you both. While it would be easy to highlight the portions of the text that are hurtful to you, you must see that it was written and sent from a wounded individual. Refer to the opening paragraph and you'll see the intent was clearly stated. Where your feelings considered in the rest of the tome? I do not believe they were, but what is more important your feelings or bringing healing and peace?

I am aware the sited evidences that Theo presented were very one sided. And yes, it would have been better had he come to you at the start. Yet could it not be counted as bravery to get it out now? It is at the very least a possibility. Though it was not a considerate representation, at least now the door is open to discussion. Don't make it and argument about what "really happened." This will only lead to' He said, He said' (forgive the blatant vie for a chuckle?) In stead, validate his feelings. It is not right to tell some one how they feel is wrong. How they deal with those feelings is different, and conclusions drawn from said feelings can be inaccurate, but the feelings themselves aren't wrong. I would advise you to let the inaccuracies alone. Truth digs its own way out, we just get in the way.

If your understanding is accurate it will be very difficult to relate to him. Let him know your feelings in all this. You don't want to walk on egg shells every time you talk, so be vulnerable and open. Think of it this way: This is the true beginning. While the hurts were being hidden and not forgiven, you were not truly friends. How could you be with such issues brewing under the surface? Now you at least have a shot, yes?

You should try to talk to Theo and validate his feelings, while staying away from petty disagreements. Should he have no desire to talk to you then let the whole thing go. He may very well be hurt to the point of not beying (sp!) able to be unguarded with you. It is his choice and you should support him either way. If the two of you are able to talk it all out, Great! If not, then the ball is in his court. He took one step and you took another. If he wants to walk away, you have to let him.

In awe

standing there in the drive way watching as the remnants of day light weaken.
No rain yet. There are still patches of blue peeking through the darkening gray.
The light show will stay the course, no waiting. Once the charge has been built
there is guilt in not going, so off we go to see the light show!
twisting flash of shadow.
...and then that noise... the ground shakes
It comes from the sky yet it sounds like the foundations of the earth have been tested past what they can stand. And again
(the trees of the field are clapping their hands)
and again with wind. still no rain and still standing in the drive way
The clouds were patchy with a full range of grays, but now they blend into one dark charcoal.

another hit and how is that house not on fire? The pieces of this thought placed together hours later from the shards made when the sound blew through a second later. all that was left out loud was this

"strike me. take me this way! Your power is so complete I want to feel it this way forever. my doubt dares not show its face when you are present in this way. it becomes sure itself and praises you they way the trees cry out. I want to be with you, strike me! That I might share you with others. Take me away and let only you remain. Strike me! Strike me!"

pending edit and title

i want to control the pendulum
and balance the connotation of such action
which reinforces the concentration of said definition

this ink seeps beneath the dermal layer and stains the natural order
the dots connecting themselves in rapid randomocity
repealing the intent of time spent to bring focus

center and star struck as fingers wrapped...weaken
an overload ripping release from storage
and thrusting internal with love tipped bullets.
invaded, those finger melt from the impossible post

first, I thirst to know your ways
and this stays with in to strengthen a resolve as yet unseen.
not to invoke a trickle or stream, but I miss them.
"Did I miss them?" fades to the dominant memory of a current word
(an eternal word) so my gripping hands hit line to line
(or mine to thine)

You are boarding my center where even atoms come undone to follow the One

sequalish

standing on second a slip of the dream slides on paper. With pictures near by, all near by, by clicketing. light fractures in the darkness the sun seeps upward in our dimensional perspective. drums grow in sound as rhythm is pounded out. fuzz to the ear adds element of excitement. something new on the fringe where we live. feet hurt from walking where it cuts. dirt grows in water also. when and where and why and who and how
oh wow that is extravagant. this left click spell check thing is in credible. which is a drawer at the bottom of my desk hidden by the chair molding. Tucked away with secret intent or intent to be secret. Both will work and both have truth bond up and locked away in a drawer at the bottom of a desk somewhere. a lost warehouse where they house desks that have secret compartments. because we all have things to hide. "Every family has a skeleton in the closet, but ours still has flesh on it"
hopping into new ground. or is it old ground with new eyes. new eyes has a truer ring to it
I blew it and I'm through it. rather than Lean my way, I should drop over? fall to my feet running in a mellow relaxed fashion? I see a smile in her eyes that is not for me. So I dodge the reception, and return by window, alone. The smile in my eyes for one yet unseen by us all. to measure a sunrise in music or a sunset by stealth is insulting. such things pure out the truth to those that need smiles for their eyes. I despise my own pattern. colour and color and coloure make a thunder to see a lyric of static. comfort the child to hard to cry. break early, the one crying by vision. build beastly the needy. Take off you superman costume. You have failed to see the danger you dug. you set this in motion and sought to make right your trench. So get out before Pendulum Day! The truth will bear out at the start when it is all you seek. but the start may be longer in development.
sweet and tart change the course of a non-stick surface. finding flakes in a wind storm makes for full days and all nighters.
fades, like musical shades, blend this from track to track. My life is more like a disc than a dud. a whisper from a hidden pocket claims otherwise. so I take risks and lean back in my chair. the chord becomes taught though non weight bearing. a funny itch hits just below the wrist and focus is so far from the tapping at my window that the socks pile up faster than we can clean the walls. what is to be done when the cover is matching the book but both are ugly? are you in danger of putting yourself upon yourself?
the rain stick is a lie. this paper is a lie, but the ink is not (only pencil lead lies) the shimmer from a dime as silver as the day is green, is worth more than the green it claims. two spoons and a fork mix upon my desk top having aided in my consumption of food of the ending type persuasion.
pause
and shocker
some one wrote on a valuable document. They took the ever truthful pen ink and undid the paper. Faded green with rustic copper (wrist still caustic) a stopper for those that scheme. not to mention their talent with shapes for stories is less than it aught to be. vacant and stenchly is the room under this darkness. Bring in the light to see you awake. I see a mirror in your story. stay away from me if you plan to break it. glass works its way out of the body and is less of a danger, but the silver... purpose lost or altered. I polish and point,but it is yours to take hold of. where will you unload your newest stock. Are they hunting me. At first it was a pang, we saw nothing. then we knew of coins and i was lost in the next moments. I gave up. I quit. I'll work in a small room? what about the dirt for my boots and nails? I need to roughhouse in the itchy grass! Do I ponder blindness on a massive scale? look out for those who scheme with sunglasses on! The caterpillar has children but style says use your wholeness, not one wing!

what should have been done

and I wanted to run with stops hit the hot tea pots bing and throb. After ink the itch runs cold and still we will not rerun or remake what's at stake from the stillness is no swine flu illness. Why won't you talk to me? I'm always here and that is just how it starts, but when I look past this I try to push. working this small spot of what is known. I block that which invades from ear scope I want to talk about the infinite and those red squiggly lines hang over head instilling fear. They have a great claim to be under 'growned' and while I see this I see also more than this. I see stars that melt my eyes at trillion light years in distance. I saw a dog go back to it's vomit today and it made me weep to wreck in such a way. Mc Gruff cuffed me in listening before hard lefting. brain swells in need of reaching out to tell of truths trampled. drowning with water to cause cure, but even advil is undone in authority. flesh cries out in mourning. so sad to see such silly daisies. each peddle with a tiny word written on paper by the young lady sitting feat away. Pencil in hand she finds it necessary or needed to be one to record and retell of what's far from hell. why can't this go farther? why can't my maker make me further? why is she so lonely? when will I wake up? quest in this ample abyss. More thievery. becoming a pattern that young Evan grows old with and it is all to fat that he should live a life in a few pages. He ages most in this last phrase and how can we see that we say what is always right? so idle is our idol without thinking we tout the earless, mouthless, eyeless, speachless, feetless, lunchless! I'm sorry I loved you so much! shredding through and threw. Just to be just I want to say that the lily pad had a frog in the bog. smoke and mirrors will bring that one to his end. and it is all getting gone. wink to the brink L...L...Like only one of you should get that but a few of my reading should expand. I need to find some land more than only sand. And I start to scrub from my mind such words that bright and flicker and brush and bite.
How wants to fight! I need to fight! I need to get blood going! if I must provoke you to draw it from me. I'd go to the pencil skirt and request a sketch of more than flower peddles. working new sets of train like force we start to see strain in the quickness. when was this time so important that it must be brought to a poignant place. sssssssss MR SQUIGGLY! You should have been blue. calm as is said by another head and not tail. I'd said to that place of great and terrible to slay such a squiggle. Blue is far more superior to a ham sandwich. niceness next door is more a blessing than she knows which is why we must go. Which is why I must run so silly. Such to say I'm serious and in love of peace to be at piece. strawberry rhubarb pie is red with rain water. I'll wake up in to sun or moon but both light my window skill in hitting that wall, righting ones self and striking out in a new or more or place. He pulls out his wallet at the loss of his daughter. tearing his flesh from his spirit. railing in this cage, he is hate at his choices as there illusion. only one course ends, the other goes for ever. "G-d can you save my daughter? I break and falter and fail and take me. end me with all that is worse" This poor man sees his hands as scissors and while the van is averted, the pain could get worse from this. The young girl can only move to heal without a driver. Mrs Daisy all on her own. the rams horn founds its way into his hand but this made no great change. only that it is one less distraction form the task at hand, or hands. many,MANY hands. Hundreds of hands in hundreds of years to help. and young Zoe's young son knows no father so how can such a fictional fraction mean more? It can't! he needs saving and is this the duty of the man Evan is to be, laughing the whole way. As if he had been the only one to see green in the runway. the plain hits the strip and runs like a bull in a china shop. A real bull in a real china shop hurts very little. our bare feet need no flip-flop glass case to gesture at "You know what I could use for this! A stick with ice cream that is covered in chocolate!" ( I love the pause before waking) tremble from a week month. what is to come for this lonesome man? no dodge to drive with unending joy. stuck to shoes and a walk that must be taken in a order to change at all times. a phone call could run me into a...oops! and oops is right because a tiny little squash tried counting and that was going to be a point at which drugs were given there due course. so to take it in a three part jab. stage slaps are all in threes unless you want a two type rhythm. the kind found on stage can be found in malls when they are taken over by impostors. people that are not professionals, like me. I'm a weepy piano player wanting two brothers to see the home they built all those years ago has aged in a way that proves more is in that path. Now they establish on well paved highways and I weep to say "you were right in more ways than one!" you prayed to be only his so why balk at this circle. return to your siblings for they are weaker in your absents. l...L... Andre did not make his trip the way he should have. He ran me into the store so quickly I had no idea what store we were in. no list to know what was needed I only had so much money to spend. I could not go until it had all been accounted for. I killed grammar and after it died I still had so much more left to go. Dollar store, you failed me.

Please don't like this

Yes, you know who you are
(or not.)
and to open eyes is to swoon

bones break under such beauty
structure supplanted, wreckage clutters
(or not)

They said we may like it (or not)
so this 'plastic and key' must do
I'll fade from you and pilfer the prose set to song
or wrong the people set to sing

those boys all take wing and wind by in echelon
one and again they all have gone
though they set to catch
(and who can blame?)
it's no set and match
(this beauty has fame)

I wait here and whittle with words
and sing to keep from reading
your words (or not) make morsel into mound
I'll hound after sleep hitting my head till I'm deep in dreaming
trading track mid trek to stack my deck in avoiding your voise
(yes, that one right there. it's my fools call)

why do I stall? in this I pray you answer
for I fear of some cancer eating at my potential
yet it's tangential for to wait for it
(or not)
So I'll be off with my goods
and bless this beauty with my
.
.
.
absence.

Mr. Heart Breaker

hey there Mr. Heart Breaker,
can you see me?
You brought me out
but I was stout in my stance.
Stuck in between, I shared what I had seen.
and was left to be pushed by pride.
When set to that side, I packed my things to go
but then I did grow.
as young wisdom of love crept into my ear
and she did steer me right in His sight
I had more fight in me to follow my Maker
"I'll scrap for your wrist
Mister Heart Breaker!"
Though you beckon a great fall
I would stall said altitude adjustment.
you may rail and vent
set sail and be sent ALL and away
but you'll stay in my unbroken
not traded for token trinkets of testing.
I'm resting in and on He which loves us most
let us boast of His great deeds
as a host of His great seeds sink deep
oh so deep